


Silent Night, Jopper Night

by steffers86



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Eventual Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, F/M, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:38:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steffers86/pseuds/steffers86





	Silent Night, Jopper Night

Silent Night, Jopper Night  
“You don’t believe in Santa anymore?” Joyce said with a look of astonishment.

Will scrunched his face up like he ate an entire bag of sour candy. Joyce knew this day would come eventually. Will was growing up and growing out of holiday traditions Joyce, and he used to share. After all, they had been through as a family, Joyce felt like she could believe in ANYTHING at this point, even chubby bearded guys that crawled down chimneys.

Joyce clicked the tip of the black ink pen in a fidgety fashion. She jotted down her own pretend Christmas wish list as a way to pass the time while Will packed a small backpack of his belongings. Will planned on spending the remainder of the night playing Dungeons and Dragons with friends. An empty house would give Joyce the perfect opportunity to finish wrapping Christmas presents. Joyce’s attention was broken from her daydreaming as Will rushed into the kitchen practically plowing into the kitchen table.

“Hey, what did I say? No running in the house,” Joyce scolded.

“Mom, are we going? The campaign starts in an hour.”

Will bounced up and down anxiously beginning to feel the time crunch. Joyce, being her typical self, became scatterbrained gathering up her belongings; car keys, check, wallet, check. As she jogged over to the door, she repeated in her head her checklist humming to herself as she tried to remain focused.

“Oh, make sure to grab the shopping list, please,” Joyce pointed.

Will tossed his scarf around his neck and snagged the folded up paper from the kitchen table stuffing it down into his pants pocket. Sighing, Joyce snatched the hood of Will’s winter coat pulling him back before he stepped outside. She flipped him around zippering his coat up further.

“Are you trying to catch pneumonia?” Joyce muttered as she tugged, zipped, and pulled on his winter coat.

“Mom…Mom…I’m good,” Will groaned.

Joyce stood back, “You are now. Come on. Let’s go.”

As they piled into the car and got situated, Joyce waited for Will to buckle his seat belt up tightly. She could cope with Will not believing in Santa or the Easter bunny. It was difficult for her not being over motherly to him after the trauma he had been subjected to over the passing years. Reaching over to the radio knob she switched through a few radio channels that were filled with static and random chitter chatter landing on a Christmas song, “Jingle Bells”. Joyce began to sing along out loud and off-key.

“Come on Will,” Joyce playfully nudged Will softly with her elbow.

Will rolled his eyes emitting a shy response, “Moooom.”

“Next thing I know you’ll grow out of getting Christmas presents too?” Joyce teased.

“No, definitely not that,” Will smirked.

When they arrived at the grocery store, Joyce had a sense of urgency from hearing about the high probability of heavy snowfall within the time span of the next few hours.

“O.k, still have the list we made out?” Joyce checked.

Will searched his pockets trying to retrieve the list. As he pulled the paper from his jean pocket, a gust of wind seized it from his light grasp. Will made a small effort to try to capture it, but Joyce stopped him before he wound up running in front of a car.

“Will, its o.k. Well, maybe if we put our brains together we can remember what we intended to get for this shopping trip,” Joyce coolly implied.

A random piece of paper migrated through the blustery winds, landing directly on Hopper’s windshield. Hopper muttered under his breath as he stepped out from the warmth of the Blazer to relieve his view. A natural curiosity, he looked over the paper. His attention directed towards one small detail that stuck out to him the most. His eyes suspended on each letter, tracing out the curvy print with his finger, like a maze he was attempting to solve. Though the ink was smudged a bit from the clammy elements of the outdoors, Hopper, nevertheless, managed to make out the blotchy signature at the bottom of the wrinkled paper: Joyce.

Hopper glanced up from the letter, glancing about to see if he was being watched from afar. The events seemed oddly planned out. He knew Joyce well enough to know that she didn’t make big moves like this on her own. Honestly, seeing how she felt on paper was surprising. 

‘Don’t do this. Don’t do this’ Hopper repeated to himself subconsciously. The rapid pounding of his heart was loud enough to drown out any rational thoughts he may have had. Hopper was passed the point of trying to figure out this complicated relationship Joyce, and he shared. There was honestly no more to figure out. It was now or never.

Finally arriving home before the roads became any worse; Joyce plunged into the worn and dingy floral armchair that seated in her living room. Her bulky winter coat continued to stay snug around her slim frame. The night sang lulling susurrations of wintry ambiances. The wind howled outside, piling up snow drifts. Intricate patterns of ice were filling the night with its incandescence. There was a certain magic to snow, how it breathed new life into the barren and dull. On nights such as this, Joyce didn’t mind it nearly as much as she could enjoy it from the comfort of her abode. On the bright side, she did receive one item from her Christmas wish list. That being some quiet time. The peacefulness painted a perfect environment to drift into a daydream.

The stale aroma of cigarette smoke sparked up bittersweet memories. Hopper would be at the opposite side of the table, offering her one of his non-filtered cigarettes that she always managed to choke on. They’d laugh it off like a joke that never got old. His company never got old. The thought of him never got old.

The cigarette between Joyce’s index and middle finger, at this point, was burning into an ash snake. Headlights flooded the living room as Joyce jerked a little as the remaining ash fell from the tip of her cigarette. She peeked at her wristwatch. She couldn’t imagine who it could be this late into the night, especially being Christmas Eve and such.

“Hopper is everything alri-…”

Joyce’s eyes immediately directed to the letter that hung loosely from the tips of Hopper’s fingers. Her hand rushed to her mouth. She knew what it was; the paper was not her supposed shopping list. She was too in shock to confront the subject.

“Wh-what is that Hop?” Joyce asked with a nervous stammer.

Hopper didn’t waste another minute granting her the other Christmas wish she requested. Nothing could prepare her for what happened next. Her hands dropped to her sides feeling utterly helpless. She didn’t get a chance to breathe as Hopper locked lips with hers. Her eyes grew wild in bewilderment until she melted into the warmth of the kiss they shared.

“Hopper,” Joyce whispered, prolonging each letter like a cat purring in euphoria.

Hopper never enjoyed hearing his name unless Joyce was beckoning him. This time around she was saying his name, not because she needed something FROM him; more than she just needed him; only him. When she opened her mouth further to speak her voice faltered as if the words were trapped, left to suffocate and form a lump in her throat. Hopper found himself drunk on something other than alcohol. Joyce gave him a certain rush that no amount of drugs could offer him.

“Merry Christmas Joyce,” Hopper casually spoke as if this was normal for the two of them.

Joyce could feel her cheeks, burning, blushing almost as red as the ribbons that trimmed the Christmas tree in her living room. Her fingers grazed her lips as she hid behind an unstoppable smile. She was never one to believe in Christmas miracles. It was as foreign to her like magic. He was able to sway her, finding herself completely under his spell.

“Merry Christmas Hop,” Joyce sighed wistfully.


End file.
